


A New, Frozen Terra

by Billy_McMedic



Category: Frostpunk (Video Game), Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28739169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Billy_McMedic/pseuds/Billy_McMedic
Summary: Terra has been transported through time, space and dimentions far into the future of the 41st Millennium, Where Bloodthirsty gods and a broken Empire lie. Trapped in a great frost and primitive steam technology, New London, the last city on earth, must face these terrors. What if the earth of frostpunk was transported into the Grim darkness of the 41st Millennium.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:** GW, Games Workshop, Citadel, Black Library, Forge World, Warhammer, the Twin-tailed Comet logo, Warhammer 40,000, the 'Aquila' Double-headed Eagle logo, Space Marine, 40K, 40,000, Warhammer Age of Sigmar, Battletome, Stormcast Eternals, White Dwarf, Blood Bowl, Necromunda, Space Hulk, Battlefleet Gothic, Dreadfleet, Mordheim, Inquisitor, Warmaster, Epic, Gorkamorka, and all associated logos, illustrations, images, names, creatures, races, vehicles, locations, weapons, characters, and the distinctive likenesses thereof, are either ® or TM, and/or © Games Workshop Limited, variably registered around the world. All Rights Reserved.

Frostpunk is property of 11 bit studios and does not belong to myself, I stake no claim and all rights reserved.

* * *

_Work shift begins, may the Lord save all workers from harm_

The tolling bells vibrated of the Icy walls as they rang out the beginning of the workday. Lines of people marched down the Wooden streets to their assigned posts. Doctors and Engineers overseeing the toiling Automatons in the infirmary as the newest cases of frostbite and basic illnesses where treat, meanwhile Workers plucked coal from the stacks dumped by the Thumper as a rain of black earth descended onto them. Muttering prayers of strength they shovelled the dark lifeblood of the city into wheelbarrows and back into the gathering huts, where they would be counted, and sent to one of the many warehouses, ready to be used in steel production or in powering the generator that kept their city alive.

However, the generator, still the majestic heart of the city it had been upon the founding of the city, was nevertheless a shadow of its former glory. The Great Storm had taken a major toll on it, being pushed beyond the limits it had ever been designed for and cracking at the seams, only the selfless sacrifice of the Glorious Captain, Saint of the frostland, had kept it alive just long enough for the storm to recede, leaving New London to lick its wounds and mourn its dead.

To describe what followed as a mess would be a colossal understatement. The ever-dreaded bureaucrat had reared its ugly head once again, and through paperwork, mismanagement and stubborn headedness, had almost killed New London. Ignorant to the problems of the Generator, ignorant to the hardening dirt, ignorant to the sudden lack of game animals, they had almost risked complete rebellion from the Outposts, many actively seceding from New London's grasp due to the broken promises, insults and cold heartedness. Only with the timely intervention of one of these Outposts, at the head of a coalition of other settlements, had new London survived.

2 years on from that dreadful time, New London had found itself as the capital of a New Nation, the first to rise from the Frostland. Founded when Outpost 11, its Allied settlements and New London all signed a co-operative agreement. While New London remained as the Head of the Territories, it remained dependent on food from the Hot Springs, Coal from the Children's coal mine, Wood from the Convicts and Steam Cores from the Outpost. But with New London's inclusion into the Network, fresh supplies of steel flooded into the settlements, bolstering the depleting supply from the outpost, and bolstered by the coal incoming from the mines. Plus, in the event of another great storm or worse, New London promised safe refuge within its walls and the heat of the generator to any member settlement of the New London Territories.

Tesla City was now the name on everybody's lips, while outpost 11 provided a much needed influx of the valued steam core, everybody knew that that supply could not last forever, and scouting of the warehouse seemed to support this, with reports coming in they where nearing the end of the underground cavern. Sensing this concern, the ruling council of New London began planning an expedition to the now abandoned Tesla City, named for the enigmatic Nikola Tesla. However, unlike before, where they had once only utilised the machinery used in the city, it would instead be studied thoroughly by the best and brightest of the Territories, aiming to replicate the machinery once lost to history, and bring mass production of steam cores to New London, securing the future for Mankind on the frozen rock once known as Earth.

Despite the differences between the member settlements of the New London Territories, they all remember the terror of the Great Storm, how only New London Came out of it relatively light, relatively, for all the inhabitants of the Frost, one truth was certain./p

_**The city must survive.** _

* * *

When frost descended upon Earth, the British Empire sent scientific expeditionary teams north to set up research posts, which importantly included astronomers. However, soot coated the entire atmosphere from the eruptions of the global supervolcanos, blocking any good sight from the astronomers into outer space, a small mercy considering what was truely out there.

An unprecedented spacial storm engulfed the Earth, tearing it away from its sun and sending it barrelling through space and time, except, not really. Unbeknownst to the people of Earth, they had been engulfed in a Warp storm that plunged the planet into the immaterial realm, and when the storms receded and the planet returned to realspace, they where caught in the orbit of an entire new star, much weaker than the sun, and across the galaxy from their original position. The scientists noticed this and planned to report this to London, before being forced to evacuate due to worsening conditions, abandoning the observatory and attempting the trip to the nearby Generator site. They where never found again.

* * *

**AN: This is an introductory Chapter into my AU where i hope to bring Warhammer 40,000, to the world of frostpunk. This is the Imperium before the 13th Black Crusade and the Great rift, and Frostpunk 2 Years after On The Edge, Feedback is appreciated and suggestions for where it can go are appreciated, One more thing, The only Imperial Factions that will be present will the the Imperial Guard, what regiment specifically will be in a later chapter. I choose the IG Because im the most comfortable writing them, and I dont want to write a Space marine power fantasy.**


	2. The Imperium Descend

**Disclaimer:** GW, Games Workshop, Citadel, Black Library, Forge World, Warhammer, the Twin-tailed Comet logo, Warhammer 40,000, the 'Aquila' Double-headed Eagle logo, Space Marine, 40K, 40,000, Warhammer Age of Sigmar, Battletome, Stormcast Eternals, White Dwarf, Blood Bowl, Necromunda, Space Hulk, Battlefleet Gothic, Dreadfleet, Mordheim, Inquisitor, Warmaster, Epic, Gorkamorka, and all associated logos, illustrations, images, names, creatures, races, vehicles, locations, weapons, characters, and the distinctive likenesses thereof, are either ® or TM, and/or © Games Workshop Limited, variably registered around the world. All Rights Reserved.

Frostpunk Is property of 11 bit studios and does not belong to myself, I stake no claim and all rights reserved.

* * *

_Brace for warp jump_

Shutters clatter down over every window and view port on the transport ship of the 897th Valhallan Ice Warriors Infantry Regiment as every Guardsman braces for the entry into the warp. Despite the gellar field, the realm of souls is a dreadful place to be for all except the most psykically blank and ignorant. Guardsman wake often from nightmares wispered into their ears by the foul denizens of the warp. But the Valhallan Guardsman is tough, raised in vast, underground Ice Hives where their lives where meaningless and expendable, toughened by their exposure to the constant sub 0 temperatures on their Ice World. Commissars lurk the hallways, Bolters ready to grant the emperor's mercy to any guardsman unable to handle the strain. In the Engine Room, techpriests notice a fault with the sublight boosters, at first nothing is thought of it and prayers to the Omnissiah are offered in an attempt to sooth the strained machine spirits.

* * *

Senior Commissar Andris Jarek and his student, Willem Kolm, patrol the barraks portion of the ship, Andris Seeks to educate his pupil on some of the more intricate and delecate parts of being a Commissar. Andris is of the view that in times of quiet and rest between conflict, they should focus more on acting as councillors and moral support to the Guardsmen so that when battle does come, courage and fearlessness drives them forward towards the enemy, more than fear of the commissars bolt pistol. Inwardly he sighs, he knows full well how the Schola Progenium trains the commissars of the officio prefectus, and is grateful for the training himself, however he can't help but get frustrated as the Junior Commissars, such as Willem, don't seem to grasp the finer details, and as a result remain on constant battle mode. When they find a guardsman huddled in a corner crying, Andris moves to comfort the soldier, understanding the effect warp travel has on the minds of regular humans. He stops, however, when a particularly violent bark emerges from the man next to him.

"YOU THERE! GUARDSMAN, STAND UP THIS INSTANT AND STOP YOUR YABBERING! YOU DISGRACE YOUR UNIT WITH THIS UNDIGNIFIED BEHAVIOUR, NAME!" Willem Kolm bellows towards the terrified guardsman, who immediately snaps out of his crying, stands at attention and divulges his name

"Guardsman Varence, Commissar Sir!" the guardsman replies, eyes red and puffy from the crying but his face holding a stoic expression nonetheless.

Andris moves to intervine, but holds back, while he disagrees with the route taken by the Junior Commissar, he understands that he is doing as he was instructed, plus, undermining a Commissar doing their job could have severe effects on their authority moving forward. If he steps in, and Varence tells everyone the Junior Commissar was stopped by a Senior Commissar, people wouldn't take his trainee seriously. So he shuts up just as Kolm releases another relentless barrage onto Varence.

"GUARDSMAN VARENCE, I WILL BE REPORTING THIS TO YOUR PLATOON SERGEANT AND LIEUTENANT, IT IS ABHORRANT THAT, DESPITE THE BLESSINGS AND PROTECTIONS OF THE EMPEROR, YOU, INSTEAD OF OFFERING PRAYERS TO HIM, CHOOSE TO HIDE YOURSELF AWAY AND CRY LIKE A CHILD, ARE YOU A CHILD GUARDSMAN?"

"No sir!" Replies Varence, his stoic expression slipping slightly as he, a guardsman, get called a child, by a pretentious, stuck up twat who is too scared to put his kneck on the line for his imperium, and instead bullies the guardsmen.

"IF I SEE YOU ACT LIKE THIS AGAIN I WILL PERSONALLY FLOG YOU UNTIL I CAN SEE YOUR SPINE, AM I UNDERSTOOD?" Kolm screams, moving forward until he is directly in the Guardsmans face, the angered expression on his face goading the guardsman into reacting.

"SIR YES SIR!" Varance responds, checking his anger and facing straight ahead, imagining headbutting the fool to keep calm

Kolm pauses, squinting at Varance while directly staring into his non responsive eyes, striding to Varances right ear, he lets out a hair raising scream:

**"DISMISSED!"**

Varance salutes, makes a 90 degrees right face, and calmly marches away from the duo. Making sure nobody else was around, Jarek adresses his student:

"You are aware we are not on the frontlines yet Junior Commissar, yes?"

"There is no differentiation between on, and off, the frontlines, Guardsmen are not to be crying like babies in the warp from a few bad dreams and because their scared." Kolm states, keeping his tone respectful, he continues "If a guardsman is crying when there is no dangers about, he poses a threat to himself and others on the frontlines, if he cracks under pressure when there is barely any pressure, I Fear what happens when they are pressured on the front."

Jarek nods "Very good, you raise an excellent point about the Guardsmans combat readiness, but I propose a counter, you may be able to cajole them when the pressure is minimum, therefore the guardsmen are still capable of thinking straight when provoked, but what about when they crack on the frontlines, they will be inconsolable and incoherent, unable to say or do anything." He holds up a hand as Kolm opens his mouth to respond "While our duty is to enforce discipline and ensure the battle readiness of the troops in our care, we are equally responsible for ensuring that they remain in a straight frame of mind at all times, yelling at them is like putting a plaster on a gushing wound, it may temporarily stem the flow of blood, but fails to address the heart of the issue. The flog and bolter, laspistol in your case, are tools, a means to an end, but so is the speech and the prayer we can lead them through. Strengthen their faith and harden their courage, and they'll be as effective as you want them to be."

Sensing this would be the end of discussion, Kolm bows his head, "Yes Master" he sighs, seeing the logic in his instructors arguement but struggling to accept it due to his prior training.

"Come Willem, we have plenty more space to cover" Jarek states as he strides down the hall, Kolm rushing to catch up.

* * *

**"Colonel Pavlov to the bridge immediately"**

Pavlov Ivanek curses to himself internally, he had hoped for a 'day' of rest before they exited warp travel, but alas, the ficle nature of the warp currents seem to have caused them to arrive ahead of schedule. Gathering his papers from his desk: detailed battleplans; auger reports; and, importantly, logistical details for the upcomming campaign on Iestolian I. The Greenskin menace had reared its ugly head on the planet, and the 897th was the nearest regiment able to respond, abandoning most of their heavy equipment, carrying only small arms and basic heavy weaponry, they made their way to the Iestolian system to establish a beachhead and dig in before the orkish menance could completely overrun the small agri world. He knew his Majors and Captains would already be up there,

"Must have slept through the first alert" he mumbles to himself, rubbing his eye lids with his right thumb and index finger. He passes Gorska Petravitch's quarters and sticks his head in. Taking note of the half drank vodka bottle on his trusty Regimental Sergeant Major's bedside cabinet, he finds the room empty.

"Already up and about eh? thats a first, usually he's drank himself half to death by now" he states to nobody in particular.

"Heard the alert asking ye to the bridge Pavlov, knew you'd be knocking at my door before long" a familiar voice announced behind him.

Quickly spinning on his heels, Pavlov just about noticed Gorska's familiar shape before he was engulfed in a massive bearhug by the sergeant, a massive grin breaking out on his face at the sight of his best mate.

"Happy. To. See. You. Too. Gorska. Pleaseputmedownbeforeyouchokemetodeathyougreatbuffoon" He quickly yabbers out. Gorska puts Pavlov down, Pavlov taking a deep breath into his lungs.

"Care to join me into the bridge Sergeant?" Pavlov asks. Gorska nods in affirmation, "Good, lets be off then."

During their walk up to the bridge, the pair regale themselves with tales of their first interactions with the greenskins during their first 15 hours, their induction into the veterans upon their 16th hour and subsiquent meeting in the 17th. Now entering their 8th Year of Service, the grizzled veterans enter the bridge expecting a last hour recap of the battleplans, their instead met by representatives of the ships mechanicus element, the navigator, and the captain of the transport vessel.

"We're making an emergency jump out of the warp," The captain states to the colonel as he enters the bridge, "we're still a few terran days travel from the target system, however the techpriest reports the sublight thrusters are on the fritz and they need to make emergency repairs, ones that cant be made during warp transit" the captain continues.

"Do we know where we will exit?" Petravitch states, looking to Pavlov with serious eyes. Pavlov meets his eyes, and nods, displaying his consent for his RSM to take the lead.

The Navigator speaks up, "Its a small system, singular star which isn't that powerful compared to other systems, and as a result, no known inhabited worlds, any worlds that do exist, would be cold, barren wastes."

"Just like home eh Pav?" The Sergeant playfully elbows Pavlov, who slightly smirks and grunts.

"We should jump out towards the center of the system, not too close to the star but allowing us a good position to make auger scans of the system just incase" The captain continues. As the ship staff discuss what will happen, the alarms begin to blair once again

_All hands brace for warp exit_

Colonel Pavlov feels reality distort around him as the Transport ship slips through the wormhole back into the material realm and the gellar fields deactivate, almost immediately upon entry the ship violently lurches forward.

"Captain, we're trapped in the gravity well of a nearby planet!" a deckhand cries out.

Mounting the throne mechanicum of the vessel, the captain attempts to divert power to sublight thrusters, only then did the true extend of the thrusters damage become evident as they completely shut off and refuse to light up again.

* * *

_**ALL HANDS, ABANDON SHIP, ABANDON SHIP, MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE NEAREST EVAC PODS AND LANDING GUNSHIPS WITH ALL NECESSARY SURVIVAL AND COMBAT EQUIPMENT** _

Evac procedures where initiated upon confirmation of the descent into the unknown planet, initial auger scans taken before the evacuation showed a world not to disimmilar to Valhalla, Plunged into a permanent winter due to soot clouds engulfing the upper atmosphere, and a fair distance from the nearby star, most thought it would be uninhabited, however the colonel wanted to ensure his force would be fully able to defend itself just incase. Gunships where filled with Heavy weaponry while Guardsmen piled into more gunships and escape pods dressed in full survival gear and clutching their Las guns and las carbines. They would be landing in the northern hemisphere of the planet, where they planned to set up a semi-permanent base of operations, dig in and await rescue.

Colonel Pavlov bit farewell to the Captain, navigator and techpriest on the bridge, they would be staying with the ship during the landing, predicted to be in the southern hemisphere. He made promises to forge his regiment south though, to link up with the crashed ship when possible, before leaving to board his personal gunship.

* * *

Senior Scout Thomas Johnson, Leading his team of scouts through the frostland, gazed up into the sky. It was a suprisingly clear night that night, and he gazed into the starts and sighted a storm of shooting stars. Clutching his religious amulet, he prayed for the safety of his home, and his team as they scouted for more supplies, and potentially blueprints, for the New London Generator.

* * *

**AN:** **And the Imperium arrives, I chose the valhallan ice warriors as my regiment to focus on due to the similar Nature valhalla has with Earth in frostpunk. I am aware of the russian influence of the valhallans, however I wont be attempting to sterotype them into the russian meme we see online, i will attempt to add aspects to the Valhallan characters that would help reflect the influence however, please tell me if i do something wrong in this aspect. One more thing, I will be using the company and regimental organisation diagrams from the Astra Militarum 8th Edition Codex as my basis for how the regiment is organised in this story. Remember to leave a review as it really helps with writing this story.**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: GW, Games Workshop, Citadel, Black Library, Forge World, Warhammer, the Twin-tailed Comet logo, Warhammer 40,000, the 'Aquila' Double-headed Eagle logo, Space Marine, 40K, 40,000, Warhammer Age of Sigmar, Battletome, Stormcast Eternals, White Dwarf, Blood Bowl, Necromunda, Space Hulk, Battlefleet Gothic, Dreadfleet, Mordheim, Inquisitor, Warmaster, Epic, Gorkamorka, and all associated logos, illustrations, images, names, creatures, races, vehicles, locations, weapons, characters, and the distinctive likenesses thereof, are either ® or TM, and/or © Games Workshop Limited, variably registered around the world. All Rights Reserved.

Frostpunk Is property of 11 bit studios and does not belong to myself, I stake no claim and all rights reserved.

* * *

_Time to rest, remember those who work overtime in your prayers_

James Cobb breathed an inwards sigh of relief that his shift hadn't been selected for the overtime slot, his workers had cheered when he broke the news to them during the pre-shift breifing. Even then he groaned in pain as he stored his tools and boarded the elevator to take him back to the surface, the muscles, used to the backbreaking labour, still complaining with every step he takes, and every swing of the arms. Not quite on fire, but not a soothing sea either. The lift hissed with steam as the steam core built up in pressure to bring them back up, or so James assumed, he had quizzed Jesse on how it worked but still didn't quite undertand. He trusted the mechanism however, and that was good enough for him.

As he stepped out of the Coal Mine, James made a final check of his clothing to ensure he wouldn't freeze to death the second he stepped out. Satisfied, he walked on, the streets where swarming with people, an anthill of organised chaos as everybody knew where they needed to go, and wanted to get there as quickly as possible. He Looks out from the Coal Mine, down the clear sight line and onto the Generator. The Engineers operating the vast machine, the beating heart of the entire city, use dials on the exterior shell of the generator. Long gone are the days where the time was the most important metric to be measured, day, night, morning, evening, its all the same. Instead, the temperature is marked on the clock face, and that day it had hit -60.

"Last time it got this cold we where but a mere few weeks from the Great Storm" James mutters to himself, pushing himself through the throng of people towards his destination. The snow lashes down in his face, melting and boiling on contact with the wooden path as the pipes carrying steam throughout the city keep the streets clear. Looking up at the familiar sight of the cookhouse, James enters into the sturdy building, and pulls down his thick, wollen hood. He joins the queue of people, all covered in a variety of soots, oils, dirt and blood from their respective employments. Making eye contact with one of the Cooks, he smiled in recognition.

"James, good to see ye mate, my shifts almost over so if ye wait around I can walk back to the house with ye." Said Lorena Frye, bearing a huge smile on her face, she continues, "Barely recognised ye with that there hood and goggles up around your handsome face" She laughs out loud. The others in line, usually bearing grim expressions as the days and weeks drag on, crack a brief smile at this display of normalcy. Most remember the early days of the city, and especially the days following the storm, where there was little to smile about and most just mindlessly shuffled through the day. With this kind of behaviour becoming more and more common, Hope throughout the city continues to rise, a precious commodity at this point in time.

* * *

Across the city, a miracle was taking place. It had been 3 years since the founding of New London and 2 years since the union of the settlements into the New London Territories. Jesse Yorke sat in his office in his Infirmary workplace. 7 months ago they had recieved wonderful, yet terrifying news, a woman had gotten pregnant. _It was only a matter of time_ mused Jesse, flicking through the files on the pregnant lady _but should we really be bringing more life into this world when we barely have enough to get by now? It doesn't matter, the child is due any day now, and if this child survives, it means wonders for us as a species-_ His thoughts where cut off as an ear piercing cry came out throughout the infirmary.

"That came from the maternity ward!" Jesse cried out, alerting his assistants to the danger. They all dropped everything and sprinted down the hall, bursting into the room, the pregnant lady cried out

**"THANK FUCK YOUR FINALLY HERE IVE BEEN FEELING THIS LITTLE BASTARD COMMING FOR AGES NOW!"**

Jesse sighed and rubbed his eyes, wisely not saying anything to avoid further conflict, bringing life into the world was magical, dealing with the mothers, not so much.

* * *

By the time Jesse returned to his home, it was already extremely dark and getting even colder than usual. Quickly slamming the door shut he waited for a moment as the heating caught up with the sudden gust of cold air that entered the room, before dressing down from his parka, goggles and lantern that had to be worn lest he die of hypothermia. He nodded wearily at James and Lorena who where sat at the dining room table, as he made his way for the stairs.

"Where ya going mate?" James called out.

"Yea, we where waiting for ye to get in." Lorena chirped in, Jesse turns around, and exaggeratedly pointed towards the rings under his eyes, before staiting in a strained and tired tone:

"Im never going to become a father if I have to sit through something like that again"

"So its true? There really is a new baby born?" Lorena excitedly asks.

"Yes, first baby born in New London, a beacon of hope for the entire city yadda yadda yadda im going to bed." Jesse states before stomping up the stairs. Seconds James and Lorena flinched as the sound of a slamming door echoed throughout the house. Lorena leaps into James and gives him a massive hug

"This is so exciting! Children, born here!" Lorena exclaims, now practically shaking her best friend.

"Yes I know, perhaps humanity won't die here after all," James says in a sarcastic tone, causing Lorena to pout in a mock sad face. James smirks at this and draws Lorena into another tight hug

"How you holding up mate?" James asks sincerly

"Im doing better, getting that promotion to head chef really helps me feel more in control of everything, its easier to breathe and shits just getting better." Lorena replies, burying her face into James' shirt.

"Im glad your happy" James states.

* * *

"A new child has been born?" Rudolph Litchfield asks, despite already knowing the answer, he seeks 100 percent confirmation.

"Yes sir, last night the first child has been born in the Sector 4 Infirmary, Doctor Jesse Yorke and his team delivered him, he's a healthy weight and seems to have no illness that they can find." An aid replied

"Hmm," Rudolph hums to himself, "A new child means a decent diversion of resources, we loose the mother and potentially the father as workers when we are already straining to fill all the vacant jobs. Not to mention the inevitable wave of children soon to follow once word of this birth gets out, SCRIBE!"

"Yes sir?" a second assistant replies.

"Make a note in the calender, for about 6 months from now, we'll need to look at the book of laws and add in new provisions for childcare, can't exactly put babies down the coal mines now can we?" Rudolph chuclkes to himself as his staffers look on awkwardly.

"y-yes sir," the assistant replies, hurrying out of the room to the main office to note down his boss' request

Rudolph sits down at his desk and quickly writes out a letter, alongside reaching into his desk and pulling out some official looking forms, writing some numbers down on them and signing them.

"Take this letter," he hands the quickly handwritten letter to his other assistant, "take it to the telegraph station, tell them to transmit this request for supplies to the Hot springs and the Convicts, we need wood and food for these children and the mothers to maximise their chance of survival, also take this document," hands the assistant the document he had pulled from his desk,"This authorises an increased shipment of steel to the settlements if they accept the request for extra supplies, make sure they only make a copy of this and bring the original back here for filing, understood?"

"Yes sir," the assistant replies, before also hurrying off to fulfill his job.

Rudolph leans back on his chair and gazes around his office. Usually bureaucrats don't get offices, instead working on a communal floor at individual desks, however, his position as both a senior bureaucrat, and the one responsible for inter-settlement trade, makes him eligable for a personal office and dedicated team of assistants. His job is still stressful however, the settlements increasingly require more supplies and Outpost 11 has been struggling to move around the coal, food and wood coming in from the 3 settlements, and their bureaucrats were beginning to feel the strain, so New London stepped in to assist with this struggle. Rudolph, while previously only a minor cog in the machine during the crisis 2 years prior, had risen through the ranks due to his hard work, and had thrown himself into his job. However he felt stifled, an ambitious man, he had aimed to jump even higher, however he was sequestered away in his current role, and is currently unable to leave, due to its importance. Rudolph can't help but feel he's being held back on purpose, but all he can do is continue to work hard.

* * *

**AN: That concludes the introductions of the initial characters from the Imperium and New London, alongside the worldbuilding of frostpunk at this point, next chapter: The first contact. As always if you have any suggestions for where i should take this story, or tips to improve my writing, please leave a review.**


	4. First Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: GW, Games Workshop, Citadel, Black Library, Forge World, Warhammer, the Twin-tailed Comet logo, Warhammer 40,000, the 'Aquila' Double-headed Eagle logo, Space Marine, 40K, 40,000, Warhammer Age of Sigmar, Battletome, Stormcast Eternals, White Dwarf, Blood Bowl, Necromunda, Space Hulk, Battlefleet Gothic, Dreadfleet, Mordheim, Inquisitor, Warmaster, Epic, Gorkamorka, and all associated logos, illustrations, images, names, creatures, races, vehicles, locations, weapons, characters, and the distinctive likenesses thereof, are either ® or TM, and/or © Games Workshop Limited, variably registered around the world. All Rights Reserved.
> 
> Frostpunk Is property of 11 bit studios and does not belong to myself, I stake no claim and all rights reserved.

Pain.

Pain was Pavlovs entire world, he could percieve nothing but a tidal wave of pain bracketing his body. He let out a primal roar as adrenaline rushes through his veins. Pavlov feels his pain lessen enough that he can bear opening his eyes. At first all he can see are blurred shapes and vague images, but as his eyes focus, the surroundings at last become decipherable, and Pavlov silently wishes he could return to his long slumber.

Surrounding the wounded Colonel, is a gargantuan debris field half buried in snow, which Pavlov just noticed he's half covered in. Silently thanking the God Emperor for his protective clothing, he slowly pushes himself up, and analyses himself for injury. Thankfully he doesn't find any injuries on himself, non that he can currently locate at the least. After checking himself over, Pavlov begins to explore his fractured but present memory to try and figure out what happened. Upon sighting the sigil of the Mechanicus nearby, the memories flood back and he recalls his last moments of consiousness:

_Pavlov stood at the head of the_ _Valkyrie during the descent, absorbing the limited scanner data he could aquire from the gunships augers when the ship violently lurched under his feet, knocking him onto his rear. The alarm sounded as the pilot yelled over the intercom;_

_"Engine one is clogged up and not responding, Engine Two has fallen to 50% power output, we can't sustain flight any longer"_

_The floor fell from under Pavlov as he found himself freefalling from inside of the aircraft, he had enough time to yell one last order._

_" **BRACE FOR IMPACT!"**_

* * *

Thomas Johnson thought he had seen everything the frost had to offer. He had been scouting for New London ever since day 1, and despite how the entire frost had been went over with a fine tooth comb, there was always the potential for a new group of refugees fleeing a failed city, a new discovery when the wind kicked up a large drift of snow or the like. So while the scout program had died down in numbers and activity, they still patrolled the frostland, using their specialist skills to their full advantage as only the best of the best where chosen now. But as the ground, _Ice,_ Thomas quickly corrected himself, shook, he once again found himself caught off guard. Tremors weren't uncommon, sometimes ice sheets slipped and caused a miniature quake, but this didn't feel like one of those times. The ice sheet slips where sudden and swept Thomas, and his team, off their feet, this was more like a thud, a sudden, violent shake that echoed through their bodies. It also helped that there was a loud crashing noise carried on the wind, for figuring out that this wasn't a regular occurance.

"Where did that come from?" Thomas asked his team, one of the foremost members pointed in a direction,

"This way I think boss," hee stated, murmers of agreement rippled around the team.

"Then we begin moving that way." Thomas stated.

"Boss I really dont think this is a great idea, what if it was a bunch o' bears or other shit crashing about?" Another team member spoke up.

"What if those bears where attacking people?" Another said

"We shouldn't needlessly risk our lives." Said one more, a bit further back

"New London could use the manpower"

"Our lives are more important."

"we all serve the same goal, survival."

"QUIET!" Thomas roared, instantly quieting the team. He pointed in the direction indicated by the front man, and stated in an authorative, and unquestioning tone,

"We are going to investigate, then decide what we will do, end of matter."

* * *

Pavlov swore a string of Valhallan curses as he saw what awaited him outside the wreck he was in. The name escaped him but he recalled a similar animal back on Valhalla: Big; White fur; big nose; and really sharp teeth and claws. Luckily a well placed las shot could take one out.

"Where the fuck is my lasgun?" Colonel Pavlov swore to himself as the last piece of information caught up to him. He frantically scanned the area around him for any hint of his weapon, but found none. He fiddled at his belt for his las pistol, then remembered that was in his room back on the transport ship, and why he had a lasgun in the first place.

Seemingly sensing the vunerable snack just a few meters away from them, the creatures turned around and stared at Pavlov, looking like a deer in the headlights, he froze, staring back at the beasts. Time seemed to halt as both sides thought, Pavlov frantically thinking of ways to survive this encounter using the items around him, thankful his daydreaming about 50 gretchins attacking him suddenly had paid off. Meanwhile the beasts seemed to hesitate as if they recognised Pavlov, a glint of fear seeming to permiate throughout the 3 beasts

_Thats strange_ Pavlov mused, _Why would they hesitate to attack me when im clearly vunerable, unless, they have encountered humans before?_ Scanning the fur of the creatures he saw no sign of burn marks or wounds caused by a bolter, autocannon or slug thrower. His musing came to a violent end when a Lasgun beam struck the lead beast in the head - The well placed shot Pavlov had thought of recently - and the other beasts immediately turned to face their new quarry as their leader fell to the snow lifelessly.

Just as quickly as the first one fell, a seccond lasgun beam had shot out but struck a second beast in the front left shoulder. Enraged, it charged at Pavlov, spinning back around to attack the only target it knew of, Pavlov calmed himself and drew his shovel, whispering prayers to the God Emperor and readying himself for his fate. The beast slammed into him head first. The flak armour absorbing most of the force of the blow but Pavlov was still hurled backwards, clear of the wreckage and into the snow, he groaned as the pain rushed back into him like a force of nature, crippling him once again writhing in agony on the floor. He just caught a glimpse of the Polar Bear walking towards him, before blacking out completely, falling into the loving embrace of Darkness.

Gorska Petravitch saw his Colonel get knocked out cold, and roared in anger from his hiding point. Jumping up and startling the rest of the survivors he was hidden with, he charged down the snow dune he was atop of, ditching his lasgun and drawing his chainsword from its sheath. Raising it above his head, he began revving it up as he jumped at the monster, whom had turned to observe the latest threat before a chainsword was plunged into its head. Revving the sword as hard as he could and pushing it into the body of the creature, Gorska covered himself and the blood around him in the red lifeblood of the thing, brain matter flying everywhere as bile leaked out of the now exposed throat, freezing almost immediately upon contact with the air. The beast slumped down and over, dead as hell.

Gorska rushed to the Colonel who was lying unconsious a few meters away from him, grabbing him and slinging him over his shoulders. He looked towards the last beast and saw it as it rushed off into the distance. Knowing the threat had passed, he moved back to the shelter of the gunship, gesturing to his haphazard squad to join him. A medicae immediately took Pavlov back off Gorska, and lay him back down where he had first woken up, which had been the most sheltered part of the wreckage.

"Wake up soon, Pavlov, we need you." Gorska whispered to Pavlov, before moving off to organise the survivors of the crash.

* * *

Thomas' team lay shocked at what they just saw happen at the wreck. At first they saw the polar bears stalking the area and the teammate who urged them to ignore put on a smug face and made to leave, then they saw a flash of red, and one of the Polar bears just collapsed, its head missing, then they saw a second get its front right shoulder get blown clean off, again in another flash of red. Confusion reigned in the group as they try to figure out what just happened. they saw the polar bear, ignoring its injuries, charging something in the wreckage.

Then they saw some weird man in a Russian looking trenchcoat get headbutted clean out of the wreckage.

"What the fuck are the Russians doing here?" Thomas asked nobody in particular, mirroring the same shocked expression as the rest of the team but only coherent enough to stare, then they heard the primal sounding roar. Quickly looking to the direction the roar came from, they saw another Russian looking man just charging down the snow bank, discarding a vaguely gun looking object into the snow and drawing a weird looking sword. When they heard the engine in it whirring and the teeth of the "sword" spin, they just gaped, wide eyed and open mouthed, at the sight.

Finally, when the fight was over and the 2nd Russian had picked up the first, a quiet but fierce debate roared in the group

"We should get back to New London ASAP and get re-enforcements, these Russians may be scouts for a larger force seeking to take our generators"

"Those did not look like russian weapons to me, and that wreckage looks like nothing we've ever seen before, and I've been to tesla city"

"All the more reason to get help"

"But it looks like one of them is badly injured, we should offer help, if not but to just get on their good side and avoid further conflict."

"Good idea," Thomas suddenly interjected, he turned to the groups medic

"How are your supplies looking doc?"

"Their still solid, we've had fewer injuries than usual on this kind of expedition, I'd expect we'd be heading straight home after this to report this unusual sighting?" Thomas nods,"Then we definately can afford to offer assistance." The Medic stated

"Its settled then, Jake and I will take point and lead us down, also don't refer to them as russians, part of me thinks they won't understand what that means." Thomas ordered his team, after each member nodded their affirmation, he then stated,

"Alright, lets move."

* * *

Varence was standing guard, looking out into the surrounding area. He sighed to himself, wishing he was with his squad, having only been with the Colonel and his team as their valkryie was the closest to where he was hiding from the Junior Commissar, whom was determined to make his life miserable it seemed. He had been stood there for about 10 minutes when he saw a group of about 5 figures approaching from a distance. His training kicking in, he gripped his Lasgun tighter and waited for them to enter yelling distance, upon reaching that distance he raised his weapon up, pointing it at the group and yelled in as intimidating of a voice he could muster

"STOP RIGHT THERE, DO NOT COME ANY CLOSER." Upon seeing them stop, he continued, "IDENTIFY YOURSELVES!"

"Im Senior Scout Thomas of New London, next to me is Jake, my Medic, we saw one of your people where injured and came to offer assistance!" Varence heard yelled back.

_Senior Scout? New London? And their speaking Low Gothic? Whats going on here?_ Varence thought to himself, gathering his thoughts, he yelled back,

"STAY RIGHT THERE WHILE I GO GRAB MY SUPERIOR!"

Turning away, Varence walked into the makeshift tent that was erected from the wreckage and sought out Gorska.

"That went better than expected, I half thought he was going to shoot us when he pointed that thing at us" Thomas remarked, next to him, Jake spoke up.

"I still have misgivings about this Tom, for one im not exactly an expert in these things, I can make people dying of hypothermia feel nice, and I can clean up some minor injuries but beyond that im lost."

"Looking at these people, I think they'd be more interested in us rather than what you can do." Thomas concluded just as the person stepped back out of the tent with the crazy person with that weird sword, an audible gulp echoed throughout the team as they recognised the man from the sword he wielded, then he yelled.

"Well what are ye standing there for? come over 'ere and say hello!"

Gorska watched the group as they looked at eachother and slowly walked over.

"Well their definatly not from our regiment, so where are they from?" Gorska remarked.

"New London, one of them said" Varance stated.

"What the frak is a New London?" Gorska half yelled

"Beats me." Shrugging, Varence slung his lasgun over his shoulder after spotting no obvious weaponry on the visitors as they neared in.

As the leader of the group neared in, Gorska extended his right hand towards him, Thomas clasped the mans hand in a firm handshake, "Thomas Johnson, pleased to meet you mister?"

"Regimental Sergeant Major Gorska Petravitch, 897th Valhallan Rifles, and this is Guardsman Varence" Gorska replied, gesturing at Varence with his shoulder, who gave a small, informal salute with two fingers to his forehead.

"Excuse me but you don't happen to be Russian do you?" One of the people from Thomas' team spoke up. Thomas groaned and rubbed his eyeballs in frustration, Gorska quickly realising Thomas must have ordered such a question not be asked.

"No, I'll ask what that is later, Thomas?" Thomas looks at Gorska at the mention of his name, "Do the names 'Imperium of Mankind' and 'God Emperor of Mankind' mean anything to you?"

"Nope, neither does 'Valhallan' or 'Guardsman'." Thomas replied.

Varence finally speaks up, wanting to ask a question that had been burning in his mind for a while now,

"Whats the name of this Planet?"

"Earth? Why?" Thomas replied, making connections in his head but refusing to believe them, _They look excactly like humans, and they mentioned Mankind a few times, are these Humen from other planets?_

Gorska, upon translating the name of the planet into the limited high gothic he knew, looked completely stunned. He gaped around him at the surroundings once again.

"Terra?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well thats the first action scene out of the way, Once again leave a review as it really helps out with the quality of the work, Sorry for the delay but chapters are probably going to take a bit longer now the first 3 are out the way and we're now getting into the real grit of the crossover. Chapters will be hopefully getting longer and more filling so stay tuned!


	5. First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GW, Games Workshop, Citadel, Black Library, Forge World, Warhammer, the Twin-tailed Comet logo, Warhammer 40,000, the 'Aquila' Double-headed Eagle logo, Space Marine, 40K, 40,000, Warhammer Age of Sigmar, Battletome, Stormcast Eternals, White Dwarf, Blood Bowl, Necromunda, Space Hulk, Battlefleet Gothic, Dreadfleet, Mordheim, Inquisitor, Warmaster, Epic, Gorkamorka, and all associated logos, illustrations, images, names, creatures, races, vehicles, locations, weapons, characters, and the distinctive likenesses thereof, are either ® or TM, and/or © Games Workshop Limited, variably registered around the world. All Rights Reserved.
> 
> Frostpunk Is property of 11 bit studios and does not belong to myself, I stake no claim and all rights reserved.

"So let me get this straight, up there, in space, there is this massive empire that spans almost thousands of planets, each with billions of exclusively humans, all watched over by a God Emperor, the God of Mankind, from a planet called Holy _Terra_ ?" Thomas asked, completely baffled. Gorska nodded his head in comfirmation, prompting Thomas to wear a sceptical face.

"Pardon my French but thats bullshit, I don't believe you for a single second, have you been smoking opium?" Thomas asked in a genuine tone of voice, trying to mask the sarcasm permiating the sentence.

"For one I haven't smoked anything, two I don't understand half of what you just said and three, where else did we come from?" Gorska replied exasperatedly.

"Russia?"

"SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP." Thomas yelled towards his team, "Excuse them, we didn't become scouts because of our superior intellect or skills in diplomacy, well not those who had amBITIONS OF PROMOTION!" Directing the last part of the sentence back towards his team. Sufficiently chastised they looked down in shame. Satisfied, Thomas turned back to Gorska and, wearing a smile, said,"Wouldn't you agree it may be pernient to talk about this away from distractions?"

Gorska, who until that point had been periodically sending glares towards Varence, readily agreed, "Lets take you to see the Colonel, this is going way above my position." Turning around, he gestured to Thomas to follow him into the wreckage. Thomas looked to Jake and sent him a glare that said _"Keep the idiots in line until I get back"_ , Jake nodded at Thomas in acknowledgment. Moving inside of the wreckage Thomas squinted at the exposed wires and the machinery that was half broken _This doesn't look like any snowcat ive ever seen before, doesn't even run off steam, maybe they where telling the truth?_ Thomas thought to himself. _I've seen similar sorts of wiring somewhere, can't quite place it but its definately somewhere I've scouted._ He was snapped out of his musing when Gorska abruptly stated.

"Thomas, this is Colonel Pavlov Ivanek, He is our actual leader but due to his injury im temporarily in charge"

"Your the fella who was thrown about by that polar bear a while ago." Thomas abruptly stated, recognising the clothing the man wore. Pavlov looked up at Thomas, before shifting his gaze to Gorska.

"Colonel, this is Thomas Johnson, a representative of a local Human settlement on this planet." Gorska quickly stated seeing Pavlov's questioning gaze.

"Pleasure to *gasp* see such a friendly face, *spluttering cough* out here." Pavlov stated evenly, before laying back down and closing his eyes.

"Pavlov you lazy bastard, theres some important intel he has to provide us with," Gorska said to Pavlov, not so gently kicking him with the toe of his Winter Boots.

Grumbling, Pavlov Sat back up and stared at Thomas, "Go on," He prompted.

Thomas nervously looked to Gorska for assistance. Seeing the panic in his eyes as the same panic new CO's had upon meeting the Colonel, Gorska asked "Tell pavlov what planet we are on, and what year it is,"

Remembering Gorska's reaction, Thomas nervously gulped, mentally collecting himself, he answered in a clear and confident voice, "You are on the planet earth in the year eighteen-"

"Gorska, get this man out of my sight and bring me a local who isnt spitting BULLSHIT all over my valkyrie," Pavlov rudely interupted, looking back at Thomas, he said in an aggrivated tone "Now im not a complete idiot, you are claiming we are on the Planet of Holy Terra, the seat of the God Emperor of Mankind, and that such a planet looks exactly like my home world of Valhalla? I've heard saner shit come from a cultists mouth and half the time their fucking POSSESSED!"

Absolutely terrified at Pavlov's response, Thomas rushed out of the Tent and towards his scout team before Gorska could stop him. Noticing their leaders sudden flight, the rest of the team immediately began to back away and rapidly flee area of the crashed ship. Varence was too stunned at the sudden turn of events to consider raising his Lasgun and opening fire, Just staring at the rapidly fleeing primitives.

* * *

"Colonel with all due respect you where both completely out of line and nothing like yourself, what got into you yelling at the locals like that? Not to mention they where scouts for a local human settlement, now their gonna mistrust us right out of the gate! You fucking idiot!" Gorska sighs,

"Im going to pretend I didn't officially hear half of what you just said _Sergeant Major_ ,as your _Colonel,_ I'll assume you where talking as my friend." Pavlov replied coldly, narrowing his eyes at his long term friend.

"You didn't bloody keep me as your number 2 for as long as you have because I meekly submit, but because Im not afraid to tell you when your completely _wrong,"_ Gorska challenges

"Well what did you expect was going to happen when you wake me up in a grouchy mood because of these stupid injuries from that, what did he call it, polar bear?" Pavlov shakes his head to get himself focused "Thats beside the point, but you wake me up and have this random person tell me we are on _Terra?_ How else was I meant to react?"

_He's got a point there,_ Gorska muses to himself. He shrugs, "Fair point, but it still stands, its going to be ten times harder to get the locals on side after that stunt."

"The locals are a mute point, how many people are currently here, at this crash site?" Pavlov asks, moving the conversation to his primary concern.

Gorska recognises that Pavlov is done with the subject of the locals, and sighs inwardly to himself _Oh praise the emperor, politics is just not my style._ Gorska grabbed his data slate from his waist and read the notes he had made.

"We currently have you and myself, your personal command squad including the regimental colours, a half squad of veteran Guardsmen and a straggler, regular guardsman from the 3rd Platoon, 3rd Company. The radio operator is attempting emergency repairs to the Valkryie Vox Caster so we can try and raise comms with the rest of the Regiment, we have no clue where they are in relation to us, how many survived landing or how many more crashes where sustained." Gorska replied.

Pavlov frowned, _Only half the squad? That must have been one hell of a crash._ "Who died?" Was the only reply out of Pavlovs mouth at the time..

Gorska frowned and his eyebrows drew in, "Both pilots died, we think. We cant get into the cockpit, its completely buried. As for the veterans, luckily it was only the 'new' veterans," Gorska made air quotation marks with his free left hand.

"Survived the first 15 Hours with us only to be killed on the 16th, darn shame but stuff happens, hadn't even learned their names yet." Pavlov replied. Sighing, he looked at Gorska, sharing a glance with his oldest mate.

"What do we do now?"

* * *

"Thomas what the hell happened in there?" Jake asked Thomas as they rapidly fled the crash site,

"I don't know but I got the impression their boss man was about to kill us, I Don't know what annoyed him but he got real angry," Was all thomas could say. Jake recognised the tone in Thomas' voice and backed off while Thomas dug out from his coat his compass and a Map of the frostland he had drew.

The scout team noticed Thomas' actions and recognised it as a prelude to making camp while Thomas gained his bearings and charted a route somewhere, hopefully home.

"Make camp for the night men, get the foxholes dug and re-enforced and shelters put up, I'll figure out our way home." Thomas ordered his team before walking off a distance from the camp as the men got to work.

Thomas wasn't entirely present however, his conversation with the weirdo from space churning through his mind. Fear, confusion and paranoia had his brain in a death grip. _Should we really head home? What if their following us and looking to get at New London or any of the other settlements_ One voice said in his mind _But New London needs warning of these people, they could be a serious threat and we need to defend ourselves._ Thomas pondered his options, _I need to go home and warn the others, I need to find our way home._ Thomas' mind was set. Looking at the stars he searched for familiar constellations and other such navigable signs. The ash clouds that had once blotted out the stary night where now receding, and on good nights, such as that night, the land could be navigated by the stars, just like sailors of Old. After finding his desired stars, he consulted his charts. _I Should be near that old research post, if im correct, odds are im still a far way off because I still suck at this, however if we can find the black_ _obelisk, which could be near here, we should be golden._ Thomas put his star charts away and pulled out his telescope, quietly whispering thanks to the Lord for the weather to be clear. _It should be over that way...BINGO!_ He saw the landmark that he craved so dearly. Content with his nights work, he journeyed back to the camp for a good nights rest.

* * *

_How far the Guard have fallen, years ago I would have been found out almost immediately and had the entire regiment come down on my head, banishing me back into the warp, now I can sit on their ship for their entire journey and not even be found out once._

The sorcerer frowned.

_This planet is, unfortunate, but this isn't a complete failure, I can sense untold amounts of tortured souls upon this rock._ The Sorcerer closed his eyes and quietly swept the local area psykically.

_Yessss, I can sense it, the desire for blood and vengence runs ripe in that settlement, I will surely have Khornes favour once I grant him a New World full of Humen ripe for the plucking._

Chuckling to himself, He strode on, towards the closest Settlement, Visions came to him as he saw the history clearly.

_3 Years ago, the people where forced to accept abusers, bully's and their former slavers into their Sanctuary. Today tensions are higher than ever before, Perhaps, this will be the perfect oppotunity._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this took longer that all the other chapters combined to release, despite working from home I don't have much time to put towards this story. I have a plan of where I want to go, but im struggling to pace the story in a way to allow for character development and a natural flow to occur. Im not happy with this chapter completely and it probably will be some time before the next one as i take time to do my work, and also construct a complete plan for at least the first arc of this story, brush up on writing skills and probably take another look at these first 5 chapters, I humbly request a review with your thoughts on my story, and pointers for how to improve it in all aspects. Thank you for reading this far.


	6. Hostile Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GW, Games Workshop, Citadel, Black Library, Forge World, Warhammer, the Twin-tailed Comet logo, Warhammer 40,000, the 'Aquila' Double-headed Eagle logo, Space Marine, 40K, 40,000, Warhammer Age of Sigmar, Battletome, Stormcast Eternals, White Dwarf, Blood Bowl, Necromunda, Space Hulk, Battlefleet Gothic, Dreadfleet, Mordheim, Inquisitor, Warmaster, Epic, Gorkamorka, and all associated logos, illustrations, images, names, creatures, races, vehicles, locations, weapons, characters, and the distinctive likenesses thereof, are either ® or TM, and/or © Games Workshop Limited, variably registered around the world. All Rights Reserved.
> 
> Frostpunk Is property of 11 bit studios and does not belong to myself, I stake no claim and all rights reserved.

The manual dictated the rank structure, Olof knew this, he knew his place in the 3rd platoon of the 3rd Company, he simply did as he was told to do with his platoon when ordered by his captain, as the book said. The book also said what was to happen if everyone else was dead and you where the highest ranking officer around.

He never got taught that by his instructors. They dismissed any concerns with the belief that if the entire top brass was dead or missing, he'd almost certainly be dead with them. Yet it was his insistance on following the book that led him to join his platoon on their Valkyrie, the other officers decided to cram onto one gunship reserved for officers only, and the Colonel went with his Command staff. Vensk, his less than trustworthy Sergeant, and a veteran of multiple engagements, sighed loudly behind him.

"With all due _respect_ Lieutenant sir, You can't just stand there mouth gaping open wider than one of the privates when he gets his daily ration of vodka, Now are you actually going to give orders, or are we going to freeze to death."?

"Orders, freeze to death, prevent freeze to death with orders." The cogs whirred in Olofs brain as he processed the input he was recieving.

"Yes thats it, your getting the idea!" Vensk Encouraged, hoping atleast something good could come from his lieutenant, for once.

"Order the men to Dig foxholes and use their tents as roofs to keep the snow out of their holes, I also want watch parties to be dispatched around the area, make sure each party has a functioning vox caster, and we'll organise properly tomorrow." Olof looked at Vensk's facial expression as he gave his orders, breathing an inward sigh of relef when he held only a neutral expression, instead of his typical disappointed frown.

_I didn't dissapoint him this time, I don't think? I wish the Colonel was here, he'd know what to do._

* * *

"NOW WHAT DO WE DO?" Colonel Pavlov roared to his adhoc command staff, "WE HAVE LESS THAN A SQUAD WITH US, CUT OFF ENTIRELY FROM COMMS WITH THE REST OF THE REGIMENT, HAVE A MERE FEW DAYS SUPPLIES AND ARE TRAPPED ON THIS FROZEN DEATHWORLD!" Pavlov punted a bucket that was on the floor infront of him, a clang of metal-on-metal reverberating around the downed ship, The staff flinch at this display.

"I think I liked you better when you where wounded, sir." Gorska sarcastically said to Pavlov, holding the ferocious stare that Pavlov shot at him. "Sir I've seen that gaze far too many times to count for it to affect me, ranting and raving isn't going to get us to safety."

Pavlov held his stare for a while longer, before dropping his eyes and sighing, watching as the breath escaped his mouth. Setting his mouth into a hard line, He thought long and hard about his predicament.

"Do we have any signal flares?" Pavlov asked to his assembled staff.

A Lieutenant spoke up "We have a couple flares and a flare gun salvaged from the wreckage."

Pavlov nodded. "Get a flare sent up now, we'll send another tomorrow, if there's nobody around to see it, we where fucked from the beginning."

The Lieutenant came to attention and saluted, "Sir!" He stated, before walking off.

"Until relief arrives, lets get some defenses prepared." Signalling his staff to follow, Pavlov walks out of the gunship wreckage

* * *

Varence sat up in his small foxhole on the edge of the Colonels camp and wondered why Gorska had insisted on bunking down with him instead of Pavlov or another veteran. Looking across to the sleeping form of Gorska however, he began to get a brief idea of why the veteran sergeant would choose a green guardsman. Sighing, he looked back out to the frozen hellscape that reminded him far too much of home.

In that frozen hellscape, a raiding team from New Manchester Lurked. The big wigs from Legacy had seen some form of shooting star, or crashing ship, the details slipped the leaders mind, and they wanted the remenents of that thing that fell from the sky incase it contained useful tech for the Arks. The Scouts of New Manchester rose to the task for their saviours, and put together a large team to secure and transport the thing. Armed with the latest equipment comming out of Legacy's workshops, they quietly surrounded the crater.

Varence, eyes droopy from hours of being on watch, decided to wake Gorska to switch tasks, needing some shut eye himself, but something caught the corner of his eye, a small glint reflected of something. Varence kicked Gorska hard to immediately get his attention.

"Ooph, what the fuck are ye doin kiddo kicking me like tha-"

Crack.

The silence was deafening, Varence looked at Gorska with a knowing look. Raising his Lasgun, he let out a violent burst of red into the mist in the direction of that first glint.

Then all hell broke loose.

* * *

Olof was peacefully asleep in his foxhole, it had taken him a while to settle down, even longer than usual. Stress, he told himself, this was all new to him, being in command of so many men that relied on you for leadership and guidence. He could barely manage 30.

Despite his leadership still needing some work, he was a competent guardsman, so when the rippling echo of gunfire hit his eardrums, he immediately shot up, grabbed his pistol, and raced to the ad hoc command center. Upon his arrival, he found Vensk already there in deep discussion with the other sergeants.

"Vensk, whats going on?" Olof demanded, putting on his most authoritative voice.

"Sir," Vensk Saluted, "We don't know much yet, what we can tell is that there are gunshots, presumably from slug throwers, somewhere to our south, the scout teams you ordered sent out are reporting flashes consistent with slug throwers, and lasguns apparently." Olof spent a moment considering what he had just been told, before asking.

"How many teams are reporting this?"

"Just one sir, the one assigned to our southern flank, however we have already despatched a Platoon under Sergeant Ray to Investigate further." Vensk replied as if anticipating the question.

"I Disagree, I, uh, I think we should get only a squad down to investigate, it may just be some locals we don't want to, uh, disturb, especially now we're stranded,I Thinl."

"Sir, with all due respect, if these locals are using slug throwers then they don't stand a chance against our lasguns, and a full platoon would show strength and encourage them not to mess with us, in my opinion, thats a stupid idea." Vensk sharply replied, making Olof Cringe at the harshnes of his voice.

"N-n-noted sergeant, continue on." Olof replied, attempting to salvage what authority he could.

"On a seperate but related note, the scouts also noticed a faint red hue on the horizon that lasted for several minutes before dissapearing, we don't know what it was but-"

"Its a signal flare, your telling me that you saw a signal flare but did nothing? Nevertheless telll me about it?" Olof asked, slightly annoyed.

"Sir, you where fast asleep, non of us wanted to disturb you so we-" Vensk was cut off by Olof.

"What if that was the Colonel trying to signal for aid, which scout team reported this." Olof demanded, his face slowly turning red.

"The southern one, Sir." Vensk replied tensly, staring at the Lieutenant with clear disdain.

"The same one, which is now reporting gunshots from their direction, fucking, BRILLIANT WORK SERGEANT." Olof yelled, having enough of his sergeant's antics.

* * *

"Im counting at least 6 hostile tangos from this direction that I can actually see, possibly more." Varence yelled to Gorska, before letting off another volley of lasgun fire at the muzzle flashes in the distance. "I Can't really see them well but they sure can see us."

"We're backlit, their not, we are at a massive disadvantage here," Gorska replied, hurredly trying to get his Vox Caster online but the machine spirit was refusing to co-operate. "Now im really wishing that fucking techpriest was here with us, this piece of shit won't turn on." Growling, Gorska unholstiers his Las pistol and begins firing blindly into the distance in the rough direction of the hostile flashes. Snow was kicked up around them as slugs pepper the air around them.

Gorska looked out and saw one of the shadows rapidly moving towards them, holding something round in its right hand, and a small source of light in his left. Gorska shot 3 times at it and saw its right arm get blown completely off its body, a cry of pain echoing over the snowy tundra. A few secconds later, an ear shattering explosion rocked the ground as a huge ploom of snow shot into the sky from where the arm had landed. Gorska slid back into cover.

"They fucking have grenades, of course they have grenades, atleast we're dealing with humans if that cry was anything to go by." Gorska groaned to himself and wiped his face down with his free hand. Suddenly, the familiar ratter of a Heavy stubber filled the air, and a lot of snow was kicked up around the foxhole, until a loud ding was heard from Gorska's left, followed by a thud of a body suddenly being thrown back.

"AAAAA FUCKING HELL." Yelled Varence as he hit the floor, quickly pulling his helmet off, he rushed his hands through his hair feeling for blood, before picking up his helmet again, and inspecting the new dent in it. He looked at Gorska, wide eyed.

"Welcome to the veterans Varence," Was all Gorska could say, slapping Varence on the back, Gorska got back up and peered over the edge of his foxhole, and saw the rapid muzzle flashes that where the signature of a heavy stubber.

"Heavy stubber direct front, Varence, get up here and look." Varence scrambled back up and peered over the edge of the foxhole and looked in the direction Gorska was looking in.

"I See it Gorska." Aiming his Lasgun, he let go a full auto burst at the Heavy Stubber, silencing it for good. Checking his surroundings, he noticed the shadows getting smaller and smaller as the raiders fell back. Slowly, the sounds of battle faded away and the silence soon followed.

"I Don't think some of the locals appreciate us being here," was all Varence could say.

"Count your lucky stars your first engagement was against humans and not Orks, I assume this was your first engagement?" Gorska asked, and smiled when Varence nodded his head. "I meant what i said before, your a veteran now, most Guardsmen don't survive this long, so congrats." Varence just stared at him, the events of the skirmish running through his mind, recognising the look from Pavlov many years ago, Gorska left Varence alone, and began the watch over the frozen Tundra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N, Sorry this chapter took as long as it did. Anyway, Let me just explain how im interpreting the Frostpunk tech level here. This takes place 2 years after On the Edge, in 1890, and by this point the first Machine guns, or Heavy Stubbers as the Imperials would call them, and Bolt action rifles, Slug throwers according to the Imperials, had all been invented in our timeline. Im considering the Legacy/New Manchester faction as one of the more militaristic Frostland factions due to their desire to protect the Arks by any means, potentially requiring protection from other settlements, and the abundance of very smart engineers would lead to more advanced military tech for the period, being 1890. This will hopefully be explored further on later in this story. As always please leave a review, dont care if its good, bad, positive, negative etc, as it all helps in many ways.


	7. New Developments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GW, Games Workshop, Citadel, Black Library, Forge World, Warhammer, the Twin-tailed Comet logo, Warhammer 40,000, the 'Aquila' Double-headed Eagle logo, Space Marine, 40K, 40,000, Warhammer Age of Sigmar, Battletome, Stormcast Eternals, White Dwarf, Blood Bowl, Necromunda, Space Hulk, Battlefleet Gothic, Dreadfleet, Mordheim, Inquisitor, Warmaster, Epic, Gorkamorka, and all associated logos, illustrations, images, names, creatures, races, vehicles, locations, weapons, characters, and the distinctive likenesses thereof, are either ® or TM, and/or © Games Workshop Limited, variably registered around the world. All Rights Reserved.
> 
> Frostpunk Is property of 11 bit studios and does not belong to myself, I stake no claim and all rights reserved.

"Scouts detected a large number of people heading towards Thomas' scout group's last known location, we haven't had contact from that group in quite a long while, Worst case scenario is that this large force has encountered and either killed or captured Thomas and his men." A Low level bureaucrat gave his report to the assembled council.

"Thank you, your dismissed." A figure at the head of the table, lined with numbers of people, waved his hand at the bureaucrat. He was dressed in a mix of practical survival clothing with some elements of finery and what some described as "poshness". Rudolph, looking at this man, happened to agree with that sentiment. He turned his attention back to the report that had just been given, and began thinking it through. _If any of the other settlements we know of had encountered that scout team, we would have been informed, so we can rule out our allies, this really only leaves one other option._ Meanwhile, the low level bureaucrat gave a quick bow, and left the room.

"Do we know of any other cities besides our own, and winterhome?" Rudolph speaks up, drawing the attention of the rest of the Council.

"Its possible, and probable, we know for a fact we were not the only generator site, winterhome tells us that much, and if we could survive, and settlements without generators could survive the storm, then it stands to reason that other cities could." The Engineer replies.

"Well if theres any other cities, we haven't found any actually functional one, Tesla and Winterhell where the only ones and their both gone, both ruined by absolute dictators mad with power, we're lucky we had God to guide us so that we didn't succumb to such a fate." The scout argued.

"Well then how else do we explain this unknown group that appeared to possess," Rudolph squints at the paper infront of him," 'advanced weaponry' and was apparently 'moving like a pre frost army', because We didn't have a group out, none of our Territories had any militaristic group out, hell we don't even have a military, yet it seems that theres another city with one!" Rudolph begins getting worked up as his mind connects more and more dots.

"Calm down Rudolph, its nothing we can't handle," The person heading the table calmly said to Rudolph.

"We might have a city out there with a well equipped, well trained army that could potentially overpower anything we could throw at it and this entire concept of a frostland nation could be done for, and your telling me to calm down?" Rudolph exclaimes to the council in a gradually rising tone of voice.

Speaking up, the Engineer states, "I agree with Rudolph, as much as it pains me to say. Outpost 11 still sits on a large stockpile of pre frost military grade equipment, in decent working order also. Given enough time, the engineering corps could create a frostland adapted design for firearms and begin equipping our own force."

"I concur, we should at the least form our own defense force, we call ourselves a nation yet have no means of self defense." The worker states.

"Surely violence is not necessary, we all just wish to survive out here in the frost, let us not return to the old ways," The Representative of hotsprings raises, The Priest and the Convicts representative nodding in agreement, speaking up, the Convict councillor states.

"We had enough fighting against our cruel captors many years ago, we do not wish to fight fellow survivors, not now, not ever."

The Scout speaks out again, "The Scouting corps could easily be reformed into an armed branch, or atleast a segment of such a branch, and if Senior Scout Thomas has truely fallen victim to a hostile city, then we need ways to defend ourselves." The council chamber desolves into bickering between the 2 rapidly forming factions, the squabbling abruptly ends in the banging of the Gavel.

"I CALL THE COUNCIL TO ORDER!", The lead councillor roars above the noises made by the other members. They all quiet down and look to the speaker.

"Anyone wish to make a proposal?" Rudolph raises his hand immediately. "The chair recognises Councillor Rudolph of the Diplomatic corps."

"Thank you, I propose an official Armed force of the New London Territories be raised and armed, currently for the purpose of defending ourselves, but with the potential to expand should the need too arise, such as in the case of expansion."

The Chair nods and signals rudolph to sit back down. "All in favour, please raise your hands." Rudolph, the Engineer, the Worker, the Scout, the representative of the Childrens mine and the representative of Outpost 11 all raise their hands. The chair quickly counts the raised hands and makes a note on his notepad, before signalling to lower hands.

"All against the proposal, raise your hands," In response, The Representatives of the Hot Springs and Convicts, The Priest and finally the Bureaucrat all raise their hands. Again the Chair counts the votes and notes them down, signalling to lower hands yet again.

"The Council votes 6 ayes to 4 nays, the Diplomatic Corps proposal passes with a Majority with no need for a tie break by the chair." This is followed with a single hit of a gavel. "Rudolph, you now have 1 week to draft an initial plan to carry out your proposal, you may liase with other departments to do so and the plan may be presented as a multi department plan back too the council for a further vote. Any other buisness to discuss?" The Chair looks to each councillor in turn, being met with a shake of the head in the negative.

"I now declare that this meeting of the governing council of The New London Territories at a close." 2 hits of a gavel underlining this statement. Immediately everyone shoots out of their seats and begins to hurry out of the chamber.

Rudolph signals over his personal assistant. "Contact the Worker, Engineer and Scout departments alongside the representative of Outpost 11 and get a meeting organised within the next 2 days, put this meeting at a high priority and alert me when it is organised."

"Yes boss I'll get right on it" the assistant replies, before hurrying off, presumably to begin his Work.

* * *

Sergeant Ray ordered his men to quiet as they lay, somewhat hidden, on the snow dunes. Below them they could see a somewhat busy camp of what appeared to be locals. They had investigated in the direction of the gunshots, and some forward scouts had encountered a large number of tracks, some of which appeared to be sled tracks, in the snow. After scouting around they located this camp and had set up in hidden and, hopefully, protected positions. His men surrounded the locals camp, while, using a pair of binoculars, Ray looked at the camp, and the occupants of the camp in particular, the first thing he noticed where the wounded. They had large chunks of their body seemingly blown out but also cauterized, this caught Rays attention, as non of the weapons weilded by these locals seemed capable of such an action. Primitive slug throwers and heavy stubbers only. Rey passed his binoculars to a subordinate for their opinion, and their response confirmed his assumptions. The Medicae reported that the wounds suffered were consistant with lasgun wounds. This is all Ray needed to hear. He pulled out his flare gun, and loaded a green flare into it. Pointing it high, he whispered a prayer to the God Emperor, and fired.

Inside the camp, the green flare caught the attention of the wounded stragglers from the raid on the downed gunship. They had seen a red star, followed it, and had been forced back in pain. Now this green star was right above them, was it a sign of saviour, or damnation. Right after they saw it, all hell broke loose amongst the camp as red lighting just like the kind that had killed and wounded their friends tore out from the darkness and struck them down. The workers in the camp panicked, a scream tore up from the panicking men "ITS THE RED LIGHTNING AGAIN, WE'RE DOOMED!".

Typically such screams didn't faze a guardsman, but the seeming recognition of their las fire did. However this fazing quickly turned to hate as the valhallans quickly realised what this meant, they had fought their fellow guardsmen, they had attacked the Imperial Guard, and the Imperium by proxy, and the aimed and precise fire quickly turned into a veritable hail of death descending on the camp, lasguns set to full auto as everyone and everything was reduced to mere ash. Some even fixed bayonets and made to charge these barbarians, days and weeks of frustration and inactivity taking over as most of the men saw red. It took the combined efforts of the Sergeants, and the "encouragement" of a Commissar, for the force to calm down and re-organise. By that point, every local in the camp had been eliminated. Sergeant Ray quickly made haste in the direction opposate to this groups former direction of movement, hoping to retrace their steps.

"Sarge direct front, red flare, doesn't look to far either"

Rey looks up at the Flare, and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Shorter chapter this time, apologies for that, hopefully the next one is longer. Im sorry ive been focusing on the Guard so much and not enough on the Frostpunk side of this fanfiction. The next chapter will be the last guard centered chapter for atleast a couple of chapters as I conclude the Imperial Guards first Arc in this story, Regroup. After this the focus returns to New London for a little while. One final thing, Im looking for a new name for this story, im not entirely satisfied with "A new, frozen terra." Please leave suggestions for both the story name, and the direction of the story, alongside any thoughts about the story, in the reviews, or message me directly with them, and once again, thanks for reading.


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